


Entwined

by JayTheAngstKing



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Bruce Wayne, Amnesiac Joker (DCU), Anxiety, Coffee Shop, Dinner Date, Fluff and Angst, For that snow aesthetic, M/M, New 52, One Shot, Shopping, Two Amnesiacs on a bench, around Christmas time, mention of suicide, secret santa gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 23:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTheAngstKing/pseuds/JayTheAngstKing
Summary: He was a bit surprised, to say the least. One moment he’s talking about a movie he saw last night and the next, Bruce Wayne is asking him to dinner.(Two amnesiacs from the New 52 comics evolve from sitting on a bench to going on a date.)





	Entwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [residentheartless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/residentheartless/gifts).

> This fic was a Secret Santa gift to my friend but I decided I wanted to post it here, even though its been like a year and a half later. That being said, the story is a one shot that I really liked and put a lot of work into. I've gone over it a lot and tweaked words over and over. I thought I should just finally post it.  
The fic has dialogue from the comic embedded in it. Just wanted to say that. I love Snyder and Capullo's work and this comic was just the best. I love the amnesiac bois on their bench so much.

_ “That's funny. So was I.” _

He had done a lot of thinking since he first confronted Bruce Wayne. They parted on a bad note. It took a lot to convince himself to set the gun aside, took a lot to give fate another chance. 

In the end, he made a decision. He’d spend his Sundays off at the bench.

He arrived late morning with a half finished loaf of bread, and sat down. The fish were getting hungrier under the surface, and it was a shame he never had enough food to feed all of them. Still, he tore apart the bread and threw it at the water, and watched them rush to eat it. 

_ “I’m sorry, do we know each other?” _

He was surprised when he saw Bruce approach him. “Mind if I sit?” he asked. John moved over, allowing Bruce to sit beside him. “You aren’t going to do anything drastic now that I’m here, are you?”

John looked away, a bit of shame tugging on his mind. “No.”

Bruce was quiet a moment before replying, “I’m glad to see you again.”

_ “Oh, I’m just here to fight you to the death.” _

Somehow, the clouds that blocked out the sun were the best part of the weather. It was cold without the heat gazing down on him, and this gave John an excuse to get closer to him. It was this very contact that kept his heart a float. 

First, it was his hands. “I don’t have my gloves with me,” he had said. So Bruce took them in his and held them tightly. 

Then it was the wind. “It’s like it’s bleeding through my coat.”

Finally he said, “I don’t think I can stay out here much longer without some coffee.” 

All of it was an excuse to get closer and Bruce accepted them all. He let John into his life.

_ “For this bench of course! I’m sorry. I was kidding. We just both seem to love this spot equally.” _

_ *** _

Like clockwork, the two met at the park and would walk to the same coffee shop.

“A small caffe mocha please,” John told the lady, his hand digging into his pocket whilst she wrote it down. 

“Three twenty seven,” she told him.

Bruce stepped in without hesitation and placed a twenty on the counter. “I'll take a large black coffee, and make his large, too.” 

John frowned slightly. “I’m convinced you keep a twenty tucked in your sleeve now.”

“Is that so?”

“Do you even have a wallet?”

“Of course. Where else would I keep my drivers license and debit cards?” 

“Well, I’ve never seen you pull your driver's license, so I’m going to guess your shoe.”

“My shoe? Which one?”

“You’re right handed, so your left one.”

Bruce caught himself smiling. “That would be very inconvenient.”

“Yeah, well, the crazy cat lady below me keeps telling me to hide my money in my socks, so it’s not that far fetched.”

“I suppose I’ve never heard of robbers telling people to empty their socks.”

“Exactly.” 

They took their drinks back to a table and sat down. It was their usual spot, against a wall and away from the window. It felt more private there, like the park bench in it’s seclusion, though not as peaceful with the staff behind the counter and the whirling machines. It was good enough. 

_ “It’s like an island of peace in the center of the city, am I right?” _

They were back to their usual banter, between small gossip, how the day had been, and topics of interest. 

It was comfortable, something Bruce didn’t particularly have these days. Sure he was comfortable physically, but not particularly in his situation. He had been lost for a while. It felt nice to feel grounded, all together, whole. It felt nice to smile for real, and not for a camera. It felt nice to laugh, for real, and not for a persona. John was someone who brought a side of him out that seemed so constructed and carved, that it felt like- Well it felt like a suit of armor, until John smiled his way, and gave that metal something to soften up to. 

That persona, that shield, it felt real with this man. Like he had a right to laugh, to smile, to be happy. 

It was comfortable. 

_ “It is… It was.” _

He didn’t feel that way with anyone else. Not a single person in his entire life. The closest was his family, but even then, he was more the vigilante than not. With John, he was more Bruce Wayne than the Dark Knight. 

It was the thing he was supposed to leave behind, to go back to being the Batman. That was the plan. It’s hard to leave though, hard to leave happiness. 

He almost felt guilty to want more. To want both. He felt guilty for that because he had so much already. He should be able to leave something so frail, but it… didn’t seem that easy.

_ “Shh shh shh. Watch this.” _

He watched John as he spoke, his hands moving as his mouth moved. His coffee, thankfully, was in the middle of the table, otherwise he might have spilled it by now. 

Still, his eyes were wide and his lips were pulled taunt in a gorgeous smile, one that was so obviously happiness and excitement, that there was no mistaking the pure joy behind him. His entire chest heaved something full in between bouts of restless banter. He was so alive, so good, so present. 

And Bruce, he could feel his own face pulled into a smile as he listened. 

It was something he was used to by now, that the two of them would sit and talk and occasionally sip coffee for as long as they did.

It was something that dragged him back. He didn’t want to give up John. He wanted to stay with him, in a way. He wanted to keep seeing him. 

He knew John was a little… off kilter. He sometimes couldn’t pull his attention away from the man’s bag, or pocket, knowing, just knowing what was hidden away. 

Bruce didn’t like guns.

And he tried often to forget it. That was something hard on its own. Being aware of its presence meant he would often think how close John was to- 

He didn’t  _ like _ to think about it.

They both seemed happy though. He had a hard time thinking about leaving John behind when they both clicked so well. 

_ “Did you see that? They’re starving down there.” _

_ Why couldn’t I make it work?  _ Bruce asked himself.

“Perhaps you and I could have dinner tonight,” Bruce said suddenly.

“Dinner?” John asked, his voice catching. Bruce watched helplessly as John’s smile faded and his hands came close to his chest, then rested on his cup. After a moment longer he whispered, “Like… together?” 

Bruce paused; his eyes searched John’s face. It was hard to tell if he overstepped or if John was just as nervous as he was. “Yes. Together. Would you be okay with that?”

John looked down into his coffee, his teeth bit his lip, and his fingers clenched and relaxed against the cup. Bruce questioned what he had done. It was too early. He shouldn’t have asked yet. He wasn’t entirely sure John even liked him that way, but he couldn’t take it back. 

_ “You know, this spot always used to be rotten with bugs. Maybe from Gotham villain, maybe just naturally. No one knows, but it was hellish.” _

“Okay,” John finally replied. He looked up from his cup, his lips curled upward and his eyes widened. “I think I’d like that.” 

Bruce’s stomach uncoiled, and his shoulders relaxed. He found himself smiling back. “That’s great. I’m glad.” Bruce paused. “Do you mind if I go make a call?”

“No, of course not.”

Bruce stood up from the table and stumbled slightly as he stepped to the side. “I’ll be right back.” 

With that, Bruce went outside the coffee shop. He knew that he’d have a field day trying to get a reservation at anywhere extremely nice, but he figured he’d give it a shot anyway. 

***

John continued to sit where he was. He watched the window, able to see Bruce from his seat. Slowly, he lifted his coffee, and sipped from it. 

He was a bit surprised, to say the least. One moment he’s talking about a movie he saw last night and the next,  _ Bruce Wayne _ is asking  _ him _ to  _ dinner _ . He couldn’t help but think it happened a little quick. 

_ “Mosquitoes, blackflies… The rumor was there was a kind of giant parasitic louse that swam into fishes’ mouths and actually bit off their tongues. Then replaced the fishes’ tongues with themselves.” _

He was basically twiddling his thumbs waiting for Bruce to come back inside. 

He’d need a shower and his suit, his good one, his  _ white _ one, and he’d need to brush his teeth again before he went because what if Bruce moved in for a kiss? It wasn’t  _ gonna _ happen, but it  _ might _ happen. He’d be so embarrassed if he smelled repulsive. 

Good god, did he smell bad right now? 

_ No _ , he told himself.  _ But what if? _

His hair needed to be brushed again before he left, and he- he had scented lotion; he could smell like lavender for the date. Did Bruce like lavender?

He sighed heavily. He assumed this was a date, though Bruce didn’t exactly say it was. What if he showed up looking like he was expecting a date and it wasn’t? Would Bruce take it the wrong way? 

_ “Little monster tongues in the fishes’ mouths.” _

Bruce opened the door and walked back in just then. John shifted in his seat as Bruce took his. “Good news!” 

“Did your company find the cure to cancer and the news station wants an interview?”

“Not that good,” Bruce chuckled with his deep chest. “My favorite restaurant happens to have a table open tonight.” 

John swallowed his nervousness. “Oh really? And what kind of restaurant is it?”

“A five star gourmet restaurant with the best seafood in Gotham.”

John hesitated. “I think I’d stick out a little there.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched just a bit. “You said you liked seafood. I thought you’d like the cooking.”

John glanced to the door. 

“It’s okay,” Bruce said. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

John smiled-

_ And it tasted of metal and tears. _

-a fraction. “Right, of course. I should go home though and change. There’s not a human in the whole city who’d let me in with this outfit.”

“Well, dinner is a long way off. Would you like to go to the mall? Perhaps we can buy you a new suit.”

John froze. “I don’t think I have that kind of money.”

“But I do,” Bruce reassured. “I know you’ve practically worn out the suit you have. Consider it a gift.”

***

_ “I should go. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so the bench… I guess it’s yours.” _

There was something nice about John’s personality. He was humble in his own way, and quiet. John liked to talk, though it was clear he liked talking to people he knew rather than strangers. He ducked away from crowds more often than not, an introvert like Bruce. And yet, he was funny, and lively, able to tell stories with a command over language that Bruce saw little of. He was smart and definitely capable to do well in college if he pursued it. 

_ He was charming, like a lost prince who wandered from his castle. _

Bruce frowned. He didn’t like making that comparison. 

John exited the dressing room and stood in front of him. The suit was a light grey, and the tie was a deep purple. He adjusted the cuffs. “What do you think?”

Bruce smiled. “It looks good on you.”

John chuckled lightly, his lips spreading into a smile. 

His smile was pure joy, made from the gentle bite of teeth to mold the skin and tissue. His lips were soft and raw, painted with nothing. Innocence bleeds from those lips, sweet words layer his tongue. 

_ His smile could hide lies if it so chose, and no one would be able to tell. _

Bruce looked away. He didn’t like that either. 

“Great, so I look good in it, that’s a step.” John spun around, slowly to give a better view. “And it doesn’t clash with my hair or my eyes, or anything, right?”

His eyes sparkled like a dew covered leaf in spring. They held an endless capacity of spirit and wonder. Bruce could drown in them should he dive in, only to come alive again filled with hope and faith.

_ They are greener than acid and burn like chemicals. _

Bruce clenched his fists. He couldn’t have been more frustrated. He was making comparisons between John and-

He didn’t even want to think the name. 

But John was someone else. 

_ Just like you’re not Bruce Wayne. _

Memories were dreadful things at times. 

_ “Before you go, let me show you something?” _

“No, it doesn’t clash,” Bruce finally said.

“Wonderful!” John said before clapping his hands together. “So, where is the driver’s license compartment?”

Bruce chuckled. “Not in the shoes.”

“Really? And I was so certain!”

_ “Oh, don’t worry, it’ll only take a minute…” _

When everything was said and done, the suit being bought and them leaving the store, John was fumbling with his hands and his cuffs. Bruce grimaced. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he replied, a bit too quick. He continued busying his hands though, before saying. “It’s a wonderful suit, and I love it.”

“Is there something wrong with the cuffs?”

“No.”

Bruce studied John a moment longer.  _ He wasn’t still caught up on the cost, was he? _

John glanced around. “So, uh, what’s next?”

Bruce thought on that a moment. He offered his hand. “We’ve got an hour before dinner. We should head out.”

John nodded. “Right, okay.” 

John took Bruce’s hand in his. He noticed his palm was a bit clammy. 

_ “Dammit, I said-” _

They walked, their destination the car, but they weren’t particularly in a hurry. He watched John, the way his eyes went from one thing and bounced to the next. Christmas lights caught his attention the easiest. 

He was a bit jumpy, anxious, and easily distracted. John had told him many times that he had trouble focusing, though it wasn't so obvious to Bruce beyond their derailed conversations. Bruce could notice it though, and he was getting better at noticing it, just as John seemed like he was getting better at focusing. 

Bruce knew John wasn’t so confident. That anxiety could be killer. John over thought things and Bruce was certain that he was overthinking even then. 

All he could do was try and reassure him. All he could do was hold his hand and tell him everything was okay.

_ “Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to make a point. I didn’t mean to startle you. See, I was hurt in the Joker’s attack too. One of the last rescued.” _

***

If it wasn’t the fanciest place John had ever been, then he was sure it was the second one. He watched waiters and waitresses run around with trays of food and wine. The people around them, the other guests, were like modern royalty. These women wore extravagant dresses that clung to their bodies and crystal jewelry upon their necks. The men wore suits fair nicer than anything John regularly saw, with watches that glittered from too many jewels embedded in the metal casing.

John’s stomach churned and his body tightened. He was hesitant to wipe his hands of the clammy feeling, and he wasn’t entirely sure his outfit was right, and he thought, perhaps, there might be something wrong with his hair- 

Bruce touched his hand, and he jumped. He sighed gently, and felt Bruce’s strong grip holding his hand. It was nice. 

_ “The whole thing, it just changed me.” _

“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Bruce said, his deep voice vibrating warmly in his ears. 

John squeezed his hand back, because he was here with Bruce Wayne, and everyone must be jealous of him being with a handsome playboy. 

_ Then again,  _ he thought.  _ Wayne was a playboy.  _

John suddenly felt a different reason to fear. What was this? A date that ends with a gentle kiss goodbye? Or was it a date where Bruce was expecting something more?

_ Bruce isn’t like that _ , he reassured himself.  _ But playboys are like that.  _

After all, a kiss is one thing, something he was confident he couldn’t screw up, but he hadn't tried something like sex. He had no clue how to do that, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it either. 

_ You’re getting ahead of yourself _ , he told himself. 

_ “At first, I felt lost. I didn’t know who I was. I felt like, you build a life, you have a purpose, and then that life, whatever it might have been, it’s wiped away. What’s the point of starting over? Do you know what I mean?” _

They were lead back to a nice table after a lengthy wait. Not that John was complaining much, all that time he was holding Bruce’s hand, and Bruce’s hold was very soothing. 

They sat at their table, and he was able to get a better look at the place. Paintings were hung on the wall, and there were chandeliers overhead. The table they sat at was covered in a beautiful and soft white fabric, with wine glasses sitting respectively across from each others, and a candle next to a lone rose. 

John cleared his throat. “Well this place is very beautiful.”

“The food is better.” 

“I would imagine.” He looked at the menu, and frowned a little. “I’d try beating you to the check this time but I think I’d lose my apartment.”

He glanced up in time to catch Bruce’s smile. “If it bothers you, you can pay for coffee the next time.” 

John bit his lip. “That I can do.”

“How do you feel about wine?” Bruce asked.

“I, uh, I don’t normally drink.” John adjusted his suit. “More of a recluse. Don’t like going to bars.”

“Would you like some?”

_ “... The gun?” _

*** 

It was a longer wait than Bruce expected, quite a bit longer in fact, but John and him were used to talking over drinks. By the time their dinner had arrived, John had lost a lot of his tension and seemed a lot more comfortable. 

Bruce noticed he was conservative with his wine, but when he took sips, he held the glass correctly. He knew how to be elegant. 

That didn’t mean he was good at it. When the food arrived, he tried to pick up a fork, only to fumble and drop it. It landed on the floor with a light clang, something the two of them heard, and maybe the nearest table, but unlikely to be heard beyond that. John froze, face scrunched up as though he expected to be yelled at for it. 

Bruce stood from his chair and knelt to pick up the fork, before returning to his seat. He set it to the side.

“Sorry,” John managed.

Bruce shook his head. “Don’t worry. I can promise you there have been others who dropped silverware on the floor.” 

John adjusted his tie. After a deep breath, he used a different fork and started eating. He was much more careful about his motions. 

_ “Right, the gun. So I bought it. I came here, to this place, to use it on myself. I had it in my mouth… Sometimes when I smile… when I smile I can taste the metal. But then it struck me. How quiet this spot was. How… calm.” _

“What are you doing after this?” Bruce asked.

John paused, and sat his fork down. “I don’t know. I thought I was going home, but I’m sensing you have other ideas.”

Bruce felt a smirk play on his lips. “How does going to see the Gotham Christmas tree sound?”

“Gotham has a Christmas tree?” 

“Like New York, and Metropolis, yes.” 

John’s eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. “Oh wow! Is that an annual thing?”

“I’ve been going since I was a kid.”

“Must be a center for those super villain fellas then.” 

Bruce hesitated. It’s true, a couple of them had taken advantage of the tree and the population that normally gathered around it. 

_ A clown in particular.  _

_ “Like a gun couldn’t be fired here, you know?” _

“We’ll be fine,” Bruce reassured him. 

John’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “Of course we will. I’ll have you by my side.”

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. 

_ I will protect you,  _ he wanted to say.  _ No one in this world will ever hurt you. I will make you comfortable. You won’t need to worry anymore. I will love you, everyday until- _

Love.

_ That _ , that was something he’d need to tell him, perhaps not at that moment, but sometime that night, he’d need to. He had to. 

***

_ “Like it was the one place a gun shouldn’t and couldn’t go off. So I started coming here day by day.” _

Bruce and him walked along to the Gotham Christmas tree. They kept their hands interlocked as they walked and talked. 

Bruce pointed when he could see the bright lights, whispering, “Look,” as he did. 

John smiled at it and he squeezed Bruce’s hand harder. “Let’s get a better look.”

Bruce was close behind as John tugged his arm along. There was quite the throng of people gathered, dancing to the music that hung in the air. John stopped before they got too deep into the crowd. 

_ “And now… Now I work at a butcher shop. I have an apartment. I’m happy, and I see you here. You used to look lost. Sort of… haunted. But lately you seem…” _

The tree was giant; it’s boughs a deep green and the light was a bright red. The ornaments that hung from the branches were painted to look like gold and shone just as well. John couldn’t take his eyes off it, his thoughts halting for the moment. He noticed there was a star on top of the tree, that shone just as bright as the real stars above them, and for a long breath, he wondered if stars were made of spirit and joy. 

Bruce placed a hand on his waist and that drew John’s attention. “Would you care to dance?”

_ There’s a punch and a kick. A bite and stab. Blood and bruises. Their own kind of dance. _

“Yes,” John said simply. 

Bruce took his hand in his, and John wrapped his other arm around Bruce’s neck. John could feel Bruce’s breath on his skin. He could see his dark blue eyes sparkle. He could smell Bruce’s cologne. 

_ Do I smell bad? _ John thought. _ Was there something in my teeth? Am I sweating? Am I shaking? Does he know? _

They slow danced. Bruce lead and John followed, not that there was much to follow. It wasn’t one of those kinds of dances. It was hardly dancing at all. More like swaying while hugging. Yet, John wasn’t displeased. In fact, it was quite comfortable, quite close, quite intimate. 

Bruce didn’t take his eyes off of John’s, though John couldn’t help but try and memorize Bruce’s face. His eyebrows are strong and well kept, his cheek bones are slightly prominent, his jawline is bold, his lips are  _ inviting _ . 

John’s heart beat faster every moment he stayed in Bruce’s hold. 

_ “... At rest.” _

Bruce’s hold was sturdy. He squeezed John, but not too hard, and John found the contact grounding. He felt warm in his presence, close to Bruce’s chest. The wind didn’t bother him, though his nose was still cold. 

Bruce leaned in a bit, his forehead touching John’s and his lips only an inch or two away from his own. Bruce’s blue eyes, they were half closed, and his nose brushed John’s. 

_ I love you,  _ John thought, but in the moment, his throat was caught, and he couldn’t push the words past his lips. 

A ring echoed out. It caught both of their attentions, and Bruce pulled away. John was cold again. He watched Bruce pull his phone from his pocket turn away from John, and answer it.

John pressed his gloved hand to his lips. They were awful close. 

_ “So then don’t do it. Don’t become who you were before.” _

“I have to go,” Bruce said as he looked back at John and ended his call. “I’m really sorry.”

“Go?” John asked. “Like home?”

Bruce glanced away. “Yeah.”

_ “What the hell did you just say?” _

John watched his face, still, stony, serious. His broad shoulders held like steel, capable of carrying the city on his back and more. His stern scowl couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the dreams. 

“No…” John whispered. 

“What?” Bruce asked as he turned back to him. “What did you say?”

“You aren’t going home. You’re lying.”

Bruce’s hands clenched into fists. “Go home, John.”

He watched, stunned as Bruce turned his back on him and walked away with strides so familiar and not. His fists remain clenched, looking for their purpose. His shoulders remain rigid, ready for anything. 

_ “I’m saying don’t go back to being who you were. That’s why I’m here. That’s what I came to ask you.” _

John broke from his spell and chased him. Just as they reached a more secluded spot, he gripped Bruce’s arm and yanked it back. “You can’t, Bruce!”

“Why not?” Bruce snapped back, his teeth showing in a growl, his voice suddenly deeper and colder than before. Like ice. 

_ No _ . 

_ Justice _ . 

“The lake,  _ the fish _ ,” John cried. “If you go back, it will all  _ die! _ ”

“One lake over an entire city? Are you telling me to make that choice?”

“No, you idiot!” John wrapped himself in his own arms, almost like a barricade to protect himself. “It's a metaphor! It's  _ all _ a metaphor!” 

_ “Come here! How do you know who I was?!” _

“But for what?” 

“You- I-” John’s gaze found the ground, the snow. His chest heaved with his ragged breath. “It’s- it’s a metaphor for us.”

“I’ve only known you for a few months!” Bruce protested. 

“_Well I’ve already met you!_” John screeched. “I dream of you almost every night! I dream of things I don’t remember doing! I know I’ve lost so many years to my amnesia, and it- it _scares me_. The idea of _going back_ _to that!_”

“Dreams are just  _ dreams _ , John,” Bruce tries to convince him.

“Really? Then tell me why I knew you!”

Bruce paused. He didn’t have an answer.

“Dreams are subconscious things,” John continued. “I knew you, and-” John’s voice fell to a whisper. “-the Batman, the  _ real  _ Batman. Why would I know you, Bruce? Why would I know who you  _ really  _ are?”

Bruce took a step back; he flinched from his words. 

_ “You’re Bruce Wayne! You can stop it all from going back to the way it was!” _

John didn’t hesitate. “What about  _ me _ , Bruce?”

“What about you?”

“I don’t want to go with you!”

“What makes you think you have to?”

“We’re destined to know each other, fated to dance together. Maybe our souls and lives are entwined, and I’m always the one left in the darker part of that. Well this, what I have now, it’s simple, it’s  _ comfortable _ . I’m  _ okay _ here. I’m not great, but I’m not  _ horrible _ either. And you, aren’t you more comfortable, too? Isn’t it brighter here?” 

“I don’t need to be comfortable,” Bruce countered. “I need to save Gotham.”

“ _ No you don’t! _ ” John hissed. “Let someone  _ else _ do it. Let someone else make the sacrifice! You’ve done enough!” 

“It’s never enough. As long as this city continues to crumble, I have to try and keep it upright!”

_ “Me?! You don’t think I want to stop it?! I love someone! I am someone here! You think I want to go back? Why should I?! Why isn’t this enough?! Why?!” _

John’s eyes widened and burned. He noticed his lip quivering, noticed winter’s bite against his face. “I can’t do this.”

“Then don’t,” Bruce retorted. “You have control over your life. Don’t follow me if you don’t want to.”

John bit his lip. It was a feeble attempt to hide the tremble. Bruce was looking a bit blurry.

“You can be happy and stay that way,” Bruce whispered as he took John’s face into his hands. “If something- or someone- pushes you into being someone you’re scared to be, then I’ll be right there to help you stand your ground.”

Bruce wiped a thumb under his eye, taking a tear with it.

“John,” Bruce whispered. “I care about you a lot. I’ll be here for you. Right now I have to go, but I am here for you. I promise.”

With that he watched Bruce leave. Molded away into darkness just as he was supposed to be, and for a moment, John thought he saw something else. 

_ “I… I was just talking about the lake! Calm down!” _

John turned away and started walking home. It was gonna be a long walk, and in the snow, it would feel longer. He tucked his hands in his pockets, already missing Bruce’s warmth and grip. 

He knew that it was expected. Bruce rushing back to what he knew. It was going to happen, even if he begged and pleaded. Hell, he could tie the man up and he’d still find a way. That was who he was, or. It was what John dreamt of. 

Fate perhaps, if such a thing existed, was what caused this. Destiny, woven together. Bruce was someone else, and everything that he projected to everyone else, that was a lie. 

_ This date could have been a lie, _ he thought.

He dreamt of bandages and pain, the scent of blood and rot. He dreamt of bludgeoning and computers, and skin and crowbars. But he dreamt of the Batman too, dreamt of black and Kevlar. Bites and bruises and broken bones. 

When he woke, he would scream and sometimes cry. 

He’s happier now.

_ “You run Wayne Enterprises. Before your accident, you only cared about big dilemmas. Huge, city wide threats. But now you seem to care about smaller things. Things like this place.” _

Then again, the Batman, that symbol and its meaning. Seemed like it was a requirement in this world. It was lawless, with horrors and victims. The Batman was Gotham’s staple. It was Gotham’s hero. Bruce made that symbol. John figured that out, but after everything the Bat had been through, seemed as though the Man should get peace.

John turned away from a harsh gust of wind as it blew past. Snow stuck to his suit, and worked its way to his neck. He should buy a scarf. 

Bruce said he could choose his path. It was a beautiful thought in and of itself, but John knew better. They were with one another in his dreams, they were together now, and when the time came, they’d be together again. He knew it. 

The question was should he try to fight it.

_ “I came to ask you to use your influence to keep the lake from getting infested again.” _

They were peaceful now, and John felt that. At ease and comfortable, and John wondered momentarily if he could find a way to keep that peace. He was going to fall, he knew that, but with Bruce, he wondered if he could manage to direct that fall and avoid the chaos he dreamt of. 

That’s why he hunted him down. Subconsciously, he knew who could help him. Bruce Wayne  _ could _ help. Bruce Wayne  _ would _ help.

All the same, he knew the laughter and sickness was only laying dormant until they hatched. It didn’t grow like a seed, more like bugs, an infestation. Killing everything in its path until he finally decayed and withered back to the blood and rot he remembered. 

_ “Sometimes I can almost hear them, the bugs shifting in them eggs. I picture how it will be and it’s like…” _

***

He met with Damian across the street from the court house. “Are the police on their way?”

Damian nodded, “Yeah. I almost thought they’d get here before you.” 

“How many hostages?”

“Eight hostages. I saw three men with guns, and four without.”

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know. They’re looking for something and that’s all I can tell.”

“I’ll lead,” Bruce finally said. 

“Fine.”

_ “I’m not head of Wayne enterprises anymore. I can’t do anything to keep things as they are.” _

Stealth was the most important skill in their line of work. The element of surprise aided them like no other. Gadgets, weapons, teamwork, it was all well and good, but nowhere near as effectively as planning. Sneaking into the building was the easy part.

Bruce had the drop on them. Immediate panic swelled as gunfire burst through ear drums, and the three called for help. He attacked, quickly, effectively. 

He twisted the first gunman’s wrist, hard enough to snap, and kicked out his knee. With a punch to the temple, he goes down for good. The second gunman fired frantically at him, even as he ducked away. He thought he felt something like a punch to his thigh where a bullet was stopped by his suit. He rushed the man, his hand striking the gun away from him and his punch connecting with the man’s throat.

Behind him, Damian had already knocked the third gunman unconscious and was dealing with an unarmed man.

A woman with a baseball bat swung at Bruce. He sidestepped and threw a punch. She stumbled, and he took the opportunity to knock her down. He took the cuffs from his belt and locked her wrists behind her back.

He noticed one of the unarmed assailants ran for an exit, and before he could give a command, he saw Damian chase him. 

Bruce stood up and looked at the hostages. They were lined up against the wall, their hands caught in zip ties. 

_ “No?” _

He didn’t see the shift in the shadows until it was too late. 

A big man tackled him to the ground. He struggled for control again, his wrists getting caught above his head and a knee on his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he had been struggling when a single gunshot cut through the air. 

He stared a moment, his eyes wide as the person on top of him dropped to the side. He panted, his heart racing in his rib cage as he turned his head to see the shooter. 

_ “No. But if it goes back, what was the damn point? If it doesn’t last, if it all just falls apart in the end and if it’s not more than just… just now. Why does it matter? Maybe it’s just some big…” _

Time seemed to stop when he saw John. His coat was caked in snow, and Bruce couldn’t tell how long he’d been wandering around outside, or how he even knew to come here. He was so still, his eyes unmoving, dull and locked in place, his mouth curved downward and his hand, it was so steady, it held the gun, the very gun he kept for himself. He lacked spirit. It was like looking at a copy of John made of marble and carved with a fine chisel. 

Bruce slowly got up, his hands shook just the smallest bit as he reached for the gun. “Put it down,” he commanded. “You don’t need this anymore.”

John's face split then, his lips curling and his eyes becoming wet. 

Bruce froze, watching John’s face as tears started to drip and his throat echoed out a small chuckle. “I told you. I warned you. You- you didn't listen.”

_ “Maybe. Or maybe that’s all there is. We just make the most of what we have, and it carries forward. We were here, and that’s enough. So even if it goes away, or goes back to something ugly… Maybe that’s okay.” _

“John-”

“Stop. I told you, I warned you not to do it. You did though. You went and did the very thing I told you not to. This is your fault.  _ Everything  _ is your fault.”

Bruce winced under the lost gaze, winced under the slice in John’s meaning. “You don’t have to follow.”

It was then that John’s hand shook, his arm fell to his side, and the gun dropped to the ground. “I don’t have a choice.”

_ “Then again… we could both just quit while we’re ahead.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the fic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have.


End file.
